


Close as a Kiss

by Pinkerton



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, Feelings, Hand Jobs, Multi, Oral Sex, Polyamory, Strap-Ons, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 03:21:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16802629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pinkerton/pseuds/Pinkerton
Summary: A screenshot of Jeff Troy's texts with his boyfriend and girlfriend, a few weeks before All-Stars:Jeff: You ready for bye week?Kent: You mean sexcation2k18?Jeff: No, really, do you guys have all the reservation info I sent you?Kent: didn't look, busy making airbrushed tshirts. Sexcation2k18, BIGGER BETTER HARDER.Ainsley: *highfive*Jeff: *long-suffering sigh*





	Close as a Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [iknewhim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/iknewhim/gifts).



> My prompt was "the beach, tattoos, a soft sweater, loud laughter, a strap-on, and the sunlight coming through an open window." iknewhim, I hope I did right by your requests!

**Wine Country, California**

**January, 2018**

The thermometer nailed next to the sliding glass door reads 49 degrees Fahrenheit. Jeff sticks his tongue out at it. Conversion stopped requiring effort after his rookie year in Vegas, but he still resents it on principle. 

He opens up Snapchat and takes a frowning selfie as he points at the mercury level, then fiddles with the caption for a few seconds before settling on _me and justin trudeau hate this_ and sending it to Kent.

The rental cabin has a truly epic deck, so he settles into a chair for some stargazing, and is debating getting the firepit going when his phone buzzes with a return chat. 

_srry to rain on ur canadian pride jeffo but 69 is the funniest temp it doesn’t exist in cand and u and ur crush kno it usa usa usa, duck it cel ius_

He takes a moment to try and come up with a reply more thoughtful than a raised middle finger but is distracted when the phone chimes again.

It’s a photo of the deck taken from inside the cabin, with the chair Jeff’s in centering the shot. He can just make out the top of his snapback.

“No. Fucking. Way.” He stares at the phone as it tells him Kent is typing.

_Ys way get yr ass in here_

Jeff never has been good at saying no to his former captain, even when that captain is standing on the other side of a screen door, laughing as Jeff struggles to unlatch the weird lock.

“Babe,” Kent says, just as Jeff succeeds, “I need you to know I’m laughing at you and not with you.” He holds out a glass of champagne and picks up his own. “Cheers to All-Stars being over.”

Jeff clinks glasses and takes a heavy swig, then puts his down, and takes Kent’s glass out of his hand and sets it down as well.

He wonders when Kent will stop being surprised at being unexpectedly slung over Jeff’s shoulder and carried to bed, given how frequently it happens. Kent’s protests and wiggling are ineffective as usual; he tastes like champagne when Jeff lowers him onto the luxe duvet and kisses him.

He has a million questions to ask him about the weekend, but he hasn’t gotten to kiss Kent since before Christmas, and now he can’t stop.

“Fuck,” Kent says as he pulls away, breathless. “I missed you.”

“Me too.” Jeff slides down Kent’s body and pushes his hoodie up, getting momentarily distracted by his abs before recovering enough to shove Kent’s joggers and briefs down far enough that he can get his mouth on him.

He can feel Kent’s hands in his hair, feel his strong thighs where they’re squeezing against his sides as he takes him as deep as he can. He doesn’t mean for this to last, just for it to take the edge off, to give Kent some respite from over a month of making do with sexting and a handful of video chats. 

Kent’s thighs start to tremble, and Jeff pulls off, uses his hand and watches Kent’s face as he comes, his eyes locked with Jeff’s. 

Afterglow is Jeff’s second favorite part of sex, and he’d love to linger, to watch Kent’s face glow even after a quickie blowjob, but —

“What do you want, babe?” Kent brushes back his hair, a smile on his face Jeff would call beatific if he didn’t know the mischief it concealed. 

“Um,” Jeff hesitates. “Maybe we could -- you know.” It’s stupid how hard a time he has asking for this, even after so many years with Kent, how vulnerable it still makes him feel, how good it is, every time, because Kent knows him to his very core.

Jeff feels his face flush as he searches for words, but then Kent’s smile shifts to something that makes Jeff shiver and he knows he’s off the hook. 

“Oh?” Kent asks. “Really? You’re in the mood for — we haven’t done that in fucking ages.”

Jeff nods and realizes, belatedly, that he’s rubbing his dick against Kent’s thigh. Kent strokes his face and kisses him, drawing it out, tender and sweet. “Is Ainsley here?”

“Yeah.” Jeff tries to still his hips. “Downstairs watching tv. Wanted to give us some time alone before -- ”

“God, you have the best girlfriend.” Kent props himself up on his elbows and bellows, “Ainsley!”

It doesn’t totally ruin the mood, but it definitely takes it down several notches. 

Footsteps sound on the stairs, and then Ainsley’s there. She’s in an oversized sweater that used to belong to Kent and a pair of boxers Jeff’s pretty sure are his, her hair in a messy bun, and she’s as gorgeous like this as she is on any red carpet.

She walks over and kisses Kent on the cheek. “Hey Parser. You two get your romantic reunion stuff done, or did Jeff just blow you without any wooing?”

“You know Jeff’s blowjobs are romantic, you perv.” Kent lays back down and pulls Jeff to him again. “You’ve watched him give me enough of them.”

“True. What’s up, boys?”

“Jeff,” Kent says, and Jeff would flick his ear except Kent chooses that moment to slide his hand down and start stroking him. “Ains, he’s in the mood for --“ Kent waggles his eyebrows. “You know. The thing he doesn’t like to talk about.”

Ainsley’s whole face lights up, delighted. “He wants you to fuck him? Oh baby, it’s been forever.” She gets on the bed and crawls to Jeff, kisses the back of his neck, across his shoulders, and then her hand joins Kent’s and Jeff moans. Her perfume, a sweeter echo of Kent’s spicy cologne, wafts over him. 

He has a bottle of each in his bathroom and his locker, but they’re a poor substitute for this.

Kent’s voice brings him back to the present. “Gonna need a little recovery time, babe. Can you wait for me?”

Jeff shakes his head, and Kent kisses him with heat behind it, which almost distracts him from Ainsley starting to leave the bed. Her leaving is a terrible idea, and he pulls back from Kent and reaches behind him and just brushes her leg before she’s gone.

“S’okay,” she says. “I’m coming right back.” Jeff can hear her rustling in her suitcase.

“Close your eyes and kiss me,” Kent says. 

He does until Kent whispers for him to roll over and open his eyes. He watches as Ainsley strips off her pajamas to reveal some kind of lingerie that’s all strappy and lacey and so, so hot.

She bends over and steps into something Jeff can’t see, swaying her hips as she pulls it up, and Jeff’s mouth goes dry when she steps forward into the soft light of the bedside lamp.

She makes some adjustments, then pivots slowly. “No pressure. Just something to think about. Do you like it?” she asks, one hand resting on the dark leather of the harness, the other slowly stroking the knobby looking dildo jutting out from between her legs. “Kent and I picked it out together.”

Jeff’s brain is half a second from completely short-circuiting. “Did he help pick out the lingerie too?”

“Course I did,” Kent says against Jeff’s neck. “We know what you like. Gonna be the best sexcation ever.”

“You fuckers and your secret plans,” Jeff says. “It’s perfect.”

Ainsley smiles at him. “Thank you for being open to it, baby. Want to try it out? No waiting.”

He nods, and then they’re on him, Kent pulling at him till he’s on his hands and knees over him, Ainsley nudging at his ass till he raises it up to her satisfaction, then pushing his shoulders down till he half collapses against Kent’s chest. He fights the urge to lower his hips, pushing through the feeling of being so exposed, so vulnerable to whatever his stupidly sexy boyfriend and girlfriend have in store for him.

He doesn’t have time to get in his head about it because Kent’s kissing him all messy and good, and Ainsley's got two slippery fingers in him already, and he’s making a keening noise that he can’t really control.

Jeff’s body jerks when the head of Ainsley’s cock slips in, and she and Kent freeze. “No,” Jeff gasps, “It’s good. Keep going.”

“You sure?” Kent murmurs into his ear. “We don’t want to --”

“Please,” Jeff whispers. 

Kent nods. “Go, Ains.”

It takes a minute or two, and at first Jeff’s not sure it’s going to work, but then Ainsley pulls his hips up a little more, and that’s it, the bumps on the shaft are hitting right where he wants them, and it’s so good -- 

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Kent says in his ear. “Next time we’re taping this.” 

“Oh, fuck yes,” Ainsley says from behind him. “Can’t wait to jerk off to it when you’re on roadies.”

“Hey, Ains,” Kent says as he shifts under Jeff. “Think I’m ready to cut in.”

“Yeah,” Ainsley says, and Jeff gasps when she slips out, but it’s only a few seconds till Kent rolls him on his side and presses against his back, lifting one of Jeff’s legs so he can push into him, and it’s perfect, Kent stretching him even more, thick and hot and everything Jeff wants.

“Oh my god,” Ainsley says. “Baby, you look so good.”

Jeff focuses on the corner of the room where she’s sitting in an armchair, one hand on her dick, one moving behind it, and he has to shut his eyes because he wants to last a little longer, keep Kent inside him as long as he can. 

“Fucking love you,” Kent says, and Jeff makes it through a handful of more thrusts before he comes, taking Kent over the edge with him.

Ainsley vanishes into the bathroom, but Jeff doesn’t really feel like moving yet. “Hey,” Kent asks, “wanna take a minute, then hop in the shower with Ains?”

Jeff shakes his head, and Kent smirks.

“Hmmm,” Kent runs his hand down Jeff’s spine and stops his hand just above Jeff’s waist, over his ace of spades tattoo. “Ass full of come and you don’t even want to shower? Dirty, dirty boy.”

Jeff flips him off half-heartedly. “No kink shaming.”

“I regret teaching you that phrase.” Kent hollers for Ainsley to bring a washcloth when she comes back, then busies himself with tracing his fingers around the edges of Jeff’s tattoo, then over the 90 that only they know is there, inked in the same black just before the rest of the spade was filled in. “Still can’t believe you got this thing.”

“I've had it since the trade, babe.” 

“I know,” Kent says. He’s quiet then, and Jeff knows they’re thinking of the same day, five years ago. They’d walked out of the meeting that announced Jeff’s trade to Seattle and gone back to Kent’s, turned off their phones, and clung to each other all night. 

He’d been unapologetically late to his first meeting with Seattle’s management, the sting of being freshly inked the only thing keeping him from screaming. 

Jeff clears his throat. “Eight year anniversary in April, right?”

“Yeah.” Kent traces the spade then leans down to kiss it. “Eight years, babe. Wanna sleep?”

“Wanna be the little spoon.”

“You always get to be the little spoon,” Kent complains. “I took a coach flight to get here a day early. Coach, Jeffrey. I get to be the little spoon.”

“This again?” Ainsley asks as she walks back into the room, tosses Kent a washcloth, and climbs onto the bed. She’s got Kent’s soft, worn sweater back on but is naked below it. “Jeff, you spoon Kent and I’ll spoon you.”

“Fine,” Jeff concedes. “But tomorrow night --”

“Oh my god, you giant baby, you can be the little spoon tomorrow,” Kent says. He cleans Jeff up, then piles blankets on top of the three of them, and Jeff sleeps with Kent warm against his chest and Ainsley pressed tight against his back.

* * * *

The bed’s empty when Jeff, always the late riser among the three of them, wakes up. A long, hot shower in the huge bathroom helps wake him up. He lets his mind wander to the very enjoyable afternoon he and Ainsley had spent fucking under the countless jets.

He can’t wait to repeat it with Kent.

He stops by the kitchen to get some juice before heading downstairs to the den. The familiar sight of Ainsley and Kent curled up together on the couch greets him. They’re in their usual position, Kent leaning against Ainsley, his head on her shoulder and one hand up her shirt. Despite Kent’s general disinterest in the female body, he totally loves Ainsley’s boobs. 

Jeff understands.

“Morning.” He takes the overstuffed armchair and gestures toward the tv. “What are we watching?”

“Kent’s All-Star clips now that you’re here.” Ainsley tosses a blanket over to him. “Get cozy, apparently he was awesome and needs us to watch him beat Connor McDavid on the speed round at least three times.”

“Whippersnapper needed put in his place,” Kent mumbles.

The morning slides into the afternoon, with a foray out to a pizza place and two wineries, one they’ve never tried, and one of their old favorites. They come to Sonoma every year, and Jeff keeps waiting to get bored of it, but the familiarity has become a comfort. 

He and Ainsley buy a couple cases of wine to have shipped to Seattle, and a few bottles for the rest of the trip. Kent makes them stop at a convenience store to buy Lime-A-Ritas, and they spend sunset sitting on the thin slip of beach around the lake the cabin backs up against, getting buzzed. 

Ainsley’s curled up against Kent, her feet in Jeff’s lap, so Kent feels her shivering first and shifts her enough so he can take off his sweatshirt and gently tug it over her head. She leans against him again and tips her head up for a kiss, so Jeff gets to watch them lazily make out as the moon slowly rises behind them.

It’s a sight he will never, ever take for granted, as close as he came to losing Kent after the trade, after he met Ainsley. They crawled through it, the three of them, broken and bleeding, and made it to the other side, scarred but together, and it was worth it if this is what they all get now, more love than any of them could have imagined. 

Watching as Kent jokingly bites at Ansley’s ear, watching her laugh, Jeff takes a deep breath and centers himself. They’re fine, and they love each other, and they’re both here, and so is Jeff.

“Hey babe,” Kent says, getting Jeff’s attention, “Getting chilly. We should go inside.”

“Hmm,” Jeff rubs Ainsley’s ankle. “And what are we gonna do inside?”

“How about we bake cookies, then Ains and I feed them to you in bed, then you eat us out.”

Jeff’s dick is definitely interested in this idea. “Yeah, that sounds --”

“You should probably fuck me, too, cause you know Ains likes to watch and we won’t see each other again till --”

“March,” Jeff sighs.

“March,” Kent agrees. He and Ainsley stand up and each grab one of Jeff’s hands.

“C’mon, big boy,” Ainsley says as they pull him up. “Neither cookies nor pussy nor ass eat themselves. Hop to.”

Later, when Kent’s wrung out on the bed and Ainsley is luxuriating in the bathtub, Jeff takes inventory head to toes. The dull ache of his right shoulder is quieter than usual, a ticking clock to his retirement that’s been announcing itself more often. He’s going to have bruises tomorrow from where Kent dug his fingers into Jeff’s upper arms when he came, and Ainsley’s left him with at least two hickies. 

Shit, even the little flap thing under his tongue is sore, but the noises he got out of Kent were so, so worth it. 

He rolls on his side to look at Kent and grins at the sight of his epically disheveled hair. He relishes in knowing that the trademark Parson cowlick is nothing compared to Parson post-sex hair. 

His eyes travel from Kent’s hair down the slope of his nose, to the perfect cupid’s bow of his lips, his mouth soft and relaxed. 

“Hey,” Kent says without opening his eyes. “Stop staring at me.”

“No.” Jeff’s too busy searing this moment into his memory to keep him going till March, cataloging it along with the image of Kent ten minutes earlier, flushed and moaning and frantic while Jeff fucked him, and the Kent of half an hour ago, squirming on Jeff’s tongue. 

These memories slot in with the thousands of others, and all Jeff can do is pull Kent closer to him and whisper, “I love you.”

“Love you too.” Kent presses his face into Jeff’s chest, and they sleep.

* * * * *

“Do it for me,’ Jeff pleads as he brushes Ainsley’s hair away from her face and tucks the strands back into her braid. “You’re so much better at words.”

They found the hammock on their morning walk and have spent the hours leading up to her departure in it dozing together, but they’re fully awake now, and Jeff’s negotiations are going nowhere. 

“I love you,” Ainsley tells him, “and I love Kent, and I can’t imagine any situation where I’m with you and he’s not, or he’s with you and I’m not.”

“But?”

“There’s no but, dingus. Put on your big boy panties, follow your plan, and call me tomorrow.”

“Wait,” Jeff says, confused. “Why not tonight?”

Ainsley snorts. “You’d better be otherwise occupied.”

“Oh, yeah. Want me to take pics?”

“Pfft.” She smacks him, lightly. “I want video and directors commentary.”

He pulls her close and they rock in silence until her phone alarm chimes and they have to go back.

* * * * 

After they drop Ainsley off at the airport, he and Kent drive into town to spend an hour and a half in an intermediate yoga class that thoroughly kicks Jeff’s ass. He gives up on fully keeping up in favor of sneaking glances at Kent, who glides from one position into the next with a graceful ease the instructor keeps praising.

It would be infuriating if it weren’t so hot. 

He strikes up a conversation with the woman at the front desk when he returns their mats, and she tells him where she got her delicious smelling cup of coffee. For all Kent’s Instagram shots of the latest Starbucks fraps, he loves pour overs, and an early afternoon caffeine and pastry break sounds pretty good. 

He doesn’t see Kent anywhere in the studio, so he heads to the parking lot. As soon as he steps out the door, a horn blares. 

Kent’s honking at him from the driver’s seat of Jeff’s truck. “C’mon, Troy. Not getting any younger.”

“Got real relaxed from all that yoga, huh?” Jeff says drily as he gets into the passenger’s seat. “Where we going? I got a coffee shop recommendation, and maybe we could rent some bikes after and check out some trails or something.”

“Nope.” Kent’s already backed out of the spot. “We gotta go home. Like, now.”

“Are you okay?” Jeff buckles his seatbelt as Kent takes the turn onto the main road a little fast. 

NPR is playing and Kent doesn’t even try to switch the channel. “Why is you being so bad at yoga such a turn on?”

“What?”

“Maybe it’s a lingering result of that concussion last year that’s fucking with me, but I swear to god, the worse you are the hotter it is. I spent all of savasana trying not to pop a boner.”

“Really?” They pass the coffee shop, Jeff too busy feeling smug to notice. “You spent the class checking out my ass?”

“Among other things,” Kent mumbles. 

It’s only a few minutes before they’re rumbling down the road to the rental. Kent slows and pulls into the heavily wooded driveway and kills the engine. “Take your pants off.”

“Here?” Jeff looks out the window. The trees surrounding them cut off most of the afternoon sun. “I mean —“

“Pants. Off.” Kent leans over and whacks the glove compartment. It springs open, and he reaches inside.

Jeff sputters when he pulls out a bottle of lube. “The fuck, dude, when did you put that in there?”

Kent returns to his seat and lifts his hips to take care of his own yoga pants. “It’s not like I didn’t know we’d be doing yoga today, brah.”

Jeff laughs, but it’s cut short when Kent palms him through his sweats and orders, “Recline your seat.”

“You know there’s a king-sized bed right there—“ he points, “in that very house.”

“Too far away,” Kent says. He gives Jeff’s dick a firmer squeeze, and Jeff decides he should probably stop protesting and take off his damn pants already.

He expects Kent to climb over the seat and onto him, but instead he slicks up his hand and passes the lube over, then starts to jerk Jeff off. Jeff’s got his hand on Kent seconds later. The console in the middle makes the angle a little awkward, but they both get into a rhythm quickly, and Kent keeps doing the hand twist thing that always drives Jeff crazy. 

Jeff’s blood is still hot from watching Kent bend and stretch for 90 minutes, and Kent knows exactly how to touch him, and Jeff isn’t going to last very long.

Despite that, Kent comes first, the pace of his hand slackening as he orgasms. “Just gimme a sec,” Kent says. “Gonna take care of you.”

Jeff tips his head back against the seat and closes his eyes, lets everything else fall away as Kent slowly brings him off.

Turns out that Kent stocked lube but no tissues, so they end up wiping up with Kent’s shirt. Jeff loves shirtless Kent. Mostly because of the abs. And the light blond happy trail, so faint it took Jeff by surprise the first time they fooled around. And the cut of his hips just above his tight yoga pants. And --

“You can lick my abs later,” Kent says, and Jeff flushes but doesn’t deny what he was doing. 

Neither of them make a move to head inside -- Jeff’s pretty sure Kent’s got the same post-orgasm jelly legs he does, so he leans over and flicks the ignition on so they can listen to music for a bit.

“Man,” Kent says once he’s found a station that satisfies him. “You forget how good a handie can be. Not that I don’t love the other shit we do, but getting back to basics is so nice.”

“Nothing basic about a good hand job.”

“Mmm.” Kent runs his fingers over Jeff’s knuckles. “Takes me back to when we were first hooking up. You’ve come a long way babe.” Kent pauses, then cracks up. “Come a long way! Get it — come?”

Jeff looks over at Kent, who’s busy snort-laughing at his own non-joke. A wave of emotion washes over him, and he blurts out, “Marry me.” 

Kent wipes away a tear of laughter. “I don’t know, man. Don’t you want to hold out for a blowjob at least?”

“No,” Jeff says as he reaches into the backseat for his backpack and pulls out a small box. “Marry me.”

Kent’s eyes go wide. “What are you doing?”

“Proposing?” Jeff can feel the panic rising. He had a plan for this. An awesome plan, romantic as shit, homemade dinner, roaring fireplace, candles, rose petals on the bed, all of it. 

He’d made a vision board, for fuck’s sake. 

Instead, he’s opening a ring box with shaking hands, in his truck, immediately following post-yoga sex. 

Kent’s eyes go from the ring to Jeff’s face and back again, and then he’s gone, the open door alert chimes ringing over the birdsong from the surrounding woods.

“Fuck.” Jeff practically falls out of the truck in his hurry to follow. “Kent!”

The trail down to the lake’s beach is just uneven and root covered enough that Jeff can’t catch up until they hit sand and Kent collapses to the ground. Jeff kneels and reaches for him tentatively, half expecting Kent to shove him away. 

Instead, Kent grabs Jeff’s shirt and tips them both over so that they’re lying face to face, then presses his body against Jeff’s.

There’s sand all over them, and Kent’s crying, and Jeff hates it. “Talk to me?” he pleads, but Kent just buries his face deeper into Jeff’s chest. 

Jeff holds him and waits. 

Slowly, Kent’s breathing steadies.

Jeff waits a little longer.

Kent lifts his head to look at Jeff, his eyes red-rimmed and face a mess of tears. “I’m sorry.”

“Hey, no.” Jeff takes Kent’s face in his hands, brushes away the tears and kisses him. “I’m the one who should be sorry. I had a whole plan and then I just sprung this on you --”

Kent shakes his head. “It’s not -- did Ainsley say no?” 

“Did Ainsley -- baby, I don’t understand.” Kent’s hair is so soft beneath Jeff’s fingers, and shit, Kent’s eyes are going watery again.

“When you --” Kent’s voice cracks, and he turns so that he’s not looking directly at Jeff. “When you asked her to marry you. Did she say no?” 

“I don’t -- “ Jeff’s head is spinning. “I didn’t ask her to marry me?”

“You were supposed to,” Kent says as he wipes under his eyes. 

This is news to Jeff. “I was?”

“You’re going to retire soon and you both want kids, right? She’s perfect for you.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah but -- “ Kent’s eyes dart towards Jeff, who is starting to get a very deja vu feeling about this whole thing, which is weird, because he’s pretty sure he’s never accidentally proposed to someone before, but this almost feels like --

\-- like his first face-off against Kent on Vegas ice.

Like missing another Facetime date because of time differences.

Like Ainsley’s voice asking for his number.

Like the words, “I think we need a break” spilling out of Kent’s mouth.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s not just that. 

Maybe it’s also the exhale of reading about polyamory for the first time, or the warmth of Ainsley’s hand gently pushing him out of her car and towards Kent’s front door, or the taste of the peppermints at the front desk of their therapist’s office.

Kent still won’t look fully look at him, but it’s okay because Jeff knows what to do.

“Hey. Hey, look at me.” He gently guides Kent’s face to his and presses a gentle kiss to his lips. “That scenario -- me deciding to settle down and leaving you? Never gonna happen. Never even thought about it. Do you -- “ he hesitates. “Do you think I’m only asking you to marry me cause Ainsley shot me down?”

Kent nods, and Jeff’s heart breaks for him. 

“Kent, I love you. I want to marry you.”

“But Ainsley --”

“Has already told me she’s giving me away at the wedding and also being the flower girl.”

That gets a watery smile. 

“Kent. Look at me.” Kent does. “I’ve loved you for eight years. We’ve been through hell and back, and we’ve worked for this so hard, and I want you to be my husband.”

“Really?”

“More than anything else. I want us to get married, and get a big house with Ainsley, and fill it up with kids and cats, and maybe a dog, I don’t care, as long as it’s all of us. Can you see it? We’d be so goddamn happy.”

There’s a long pause. Jeff braces himself for the pain of convincing Kent, again, that there’s no such thing as second place in his heart.

“Show me the ring again.” 

“What?” Jeff asks. That was...not what he was expecting.

That half smile that’s one of Jeff’s favorite things creeps across Kent’s face. “The ring. Wanna see it.”

“Really?” Jeff reaches down and pats at his pocket and thank god, he didn’t leave it in the truck.

They both sit up, and Jeff opens the box and holds it out toward Kent.

Kent leans forward to get a good look. “I’ve never seen a ring like that before.”

“It’s special made.” Kent looks up at him, and Jeff takes it as a sign to keep talking. “The two metal bands on the outside are titanium because -- okay, this is really, really cheesy.”

“I like cheesy,” Kent says.

“Good. So, I picked titanium because it’s really strong, like my love for you.” 

“Oh my god,” Kent says delightedly.

Jeff groans. “Yeah, it gets worse. After the titanium bands, see the wood?” Kent nods. “You know the apple trees in my parents’ backyard?”

“Yeah, that one time we actually got up there for Thanksgiving and I almost fell off the ladder and oh my god, are you kidding me, is this from --”

“Yes, correct, moving along, let’s talk about the middle band, cool? Great, it’s made of abalone shell, like --”

“Like when we went to Hawaii.” Kent’s eyes are shining. 

Jeff could stop now. Kent’s already swaying toward the ring. He’s sold it pretty well. He can probably spare himself from saying the last thing. 

But, he’s never been a quitter. 

“The colors match your eyes. Look.” He tips the box side to side slowly, the shell inlay glimmering in greens and browns and blues, and Kent’s crying again, but so is Jeff. “So...are you gonna marry me or what?”

“You are fucking terrible at proposals. Yes.”

“Really?” 

Kent rolls his eyes. “Yes, I will marry you, Jeffrey Troy.” He waits until Jeff gets the ring on his finger before he knocks him over and kisses him breathless. 

* * * * 

The morning sun streaming across the bed wakes Jeff up earlier than he’d have liked, but when he opens his eyes he catches Kent admiring his ring in the light. 

“Mornin’, fiancé,” Jeff says. It feels good.

“Right back at ya, fiancé.” Kent holds up his left hand and wiggles his fingers. “You want a ring, too?”

“Hell yeah. Wear it on a chain under my jersey every game. Can’t wait.” 

“Well, you’re going to have to. You set a high fucking bar on all future jewelry purchases, Troy. Gonna take me some time to beat it.” Kent flops over and lands softly across Jeff. “FYI, I’ll hyphenate Kit’s name but not mine.”

“Kit Purrson-Troy?”

“Kit Purrson Parson-Troy. You’re a terrible fiancé, you don’t even know my cat’s name.” Kent lightly slaps him on the chest.

Jeff catches his hand and kisses his palm, then nips at his wrist. When he’s sure he’s got Kent’s attention, he leans in close and lowers his voice. “Wanna see if the jeweler can do a matching cock ring?”

Kent’s laughter fills the room and spills out the open window into the cool California morning.

**Author's Note:**

> The briefest epilogue:  
> Kent: How are we gonna explain polyamory to our teams?  
> Jeff: Slowly. I don't think most of them can even spell polyamory.  
> Kent: Babe, you asked me how to spell "pineapple" last week.  
> Jeff: ...we’ll use PowerPoint. It’ll be fine.
> 
> [Kent's Ring](https://www.happylaulea.com/collections/new-items/products/tungsten-carbide-ring-with-mid-abalone-shell-hawaiian-koa-wood-inlay-no-mid-tungsten-strips-8mm-dome-shape-comfort-fitment?gclid=Cj0KCQiA8_PfBRC3ARIsAOzJ2uqO07FxtkNyaFJEfW2qMgaBMGfS5AQfHDCPugppikv1vtFwxMDCwF0aAgZFEALw_wcB)
> 
> The title is from Leslie Gore's "California Nights."
> 
> I have never been to Wine Country, so take any and all descriptions with a grain of salt.


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